I write about the town of Stevats. A quaint, dysfunctional place, geography unknown (thanks Brent for the suggestion on that). The town is like so many other places in that it has lore of its own. The lore consistently and disturbingly constructed by my own imagination and ideas. It's a scary place. If you're reading my stories you are just a tourist in Stevats, a traveler stopping by for the field of flowers, maybe you should romp around Audubon Hill and take a look at the old nursing home that's been vacant for some time now. Maybe you're dropping off a freshman at Dark Rest University for an orientation night. Whatever the case, I hope you're enjoying the time there. I have so many things about Stevats to write about that I often can't keep up. I do have some great stories available to you, listed in links here and other places.
One particular piece of legend, that keeps evolving and showing up in my stories is about the Bruised Man. He's one of my personal favorites, in fact my late Grandma Ruby really loved his first appearance in Blood, Dreams & Tears. He's in a tale called Shallow, this story does not even come close to the Lady Gaga song. So I'm leaving you with this excerpt and a great first piece of artwork of the Bruised Man created by my third oldest when he was in middle school, a very long time ago. If you haven't yet subscribed to my Tim Eagle youtube channel, go do it, please, it's at: http://www.youtube.com/timeagle1973 I appreciate the support. Thanks, again, for stopping by.
Sleep; there was no better way to cope, no better way than to sleep. I slumbered in the warm ambience of the banana-yellow sun forevermore. I tuned out the world that I would someday have to wake-up and battle. Tears slipped from my eyes like leaking faucets, for what? I knew not.
I turned around on my bed of soft pine needles waking slowly from much desired sleep. I had to endure the inevitability of surviving, but Death smiled a black tooth grin which spread ethereally and then chose to visit me.
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